


My Demons

by emsmittens



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Canon-Typical Violence, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Good Peter Hale, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Jackson Whittemore is Part of the Pack, M/M, No Allison Argent, No Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, Song Lyrics, Starset Lyrics, Stiles Stilinski & Jackson Whittemore Friendship, Werefox Stiles Stilinski, spoiler in the next tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-13 13:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21495040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emsmittens/pseuds/emsmittens
Summary: A song-fic dedicated to the song “My Demons” by the band Starset.Aka the 5 times Peter pain-drained Stiles, the 1 time he failed, and the 1 time Stiles pain-drained Peter (switching POV’s).
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 18
Kudos: 333





	1. Mayday (Stiles’ POV)

**Author's Note:**

> Jackson was bitten instead of Scott because I love Jackson & stiles bromance. Also Scott and Allison don’t exist because I was lazy. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.
> 
> I have 3/7 of the chapters written. This will be updated twice a week until completed. (One of my thumbs is broken so we will see).
> 
> Also this is the shortest chapter lol.
> 
> Not beta read- as always!

~Mayday! Mayday!  
The ship is slowly sinking  
They think I'm crazy but they don't know the feeling~

***

It was a quiet night for Beacon Hills, especially in the dark, creepy preserve. The half-moon hung high in the sky. Not even the trees dared to whisper. But none of that mattered to Stiles. He loudly stepped through the forest, not caring that he was breaking twigs, tripping, and muttering to himself. One thing for sure though, he was trying to ignore his companion. It worked well, until he almost face-planted a tree, which made Peter laugh loudly, deeper than his normal chuckle.

Stiles turned to glare at him, “Remind me why I’m stuck with you of all people? I know that sometimes we research together, but that’s different than being alone in the woods with the pack betrayer? Our very own Creeper-wolf.” He waved his arms in desperation and managed to hit a few branches. 

Easily stepping around the swinging branches, Peter feigned innocence by gasping and clutching his chest, “Why Stiles! I would never!”

The taller teen rolled his eyes and continued walking down the overgrown hiking trail, desperate to end their patrol. It was nearing midnight and he still needed sleep for the first day of senior year tomorrow.

“Besides, I only told a few white lies. Plus most people lived!” Peter said while following Stiles silently with ease. When Stiles didn’t respond he smiled fondly at the teen’s back, watching his favorite red hoodie swaying in the light wind.

They turned and could finally see the end with Roscoe, his old blue jeep that his mother loved so much before she passed. Stiles sped walk as fast as his long legs would take him. When he reached his Jeep, Peter was already in the passenger seat, smirking at him.

Stiles sighed and got in the cab, making sure to slam the door. “Why don’t you just run home, dude,” he asked while starting the Jeep.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” He still had that trademark smirk on his face. Stiles would do anything to see it disappear. “Go ahead and drop me off at my place, I’ll text Derek to let him know that everything was fine.”

Stiles breathed in, counted to ten, and breathed out again. “Pick your battles, Stiles,” he muttered under his breath as he left the parking lot of the trail. He knew that Peter could hear it anyways, but he didn’t care. 

Their drive was silent, with Stiles gritting his teeth and Peter staring at him. When Stiles pulled up to Peter’s expensive apartment complex located in downtown Beacon Hills, the shorter man winked at him. “Thanks for the ride, Stiles.” As he jumped out of the cab, he added, “You should trust me more, though. Everyone else in the pack does, even Lydia and, your best friend, Jackson.”

Stiles stared at Peter’s form until he was in his complex and scoffed, “They think I’m crazy but they don’t know the feeling.” He drove off before he realized he was staring at Peter’s ass.

***

Later that night, Peter gracefully crawled through Stiles’ open window, silently thinking that the teenager should be more careful and lock it. He creeped towards the said teen, who was sleeping with his mouth open, the full moon shining down half of his face, his moles dark in comparison.

Peter sat down at Stiles’ desk when the human’s eyes started twitching under his eyelids and long eyelashes. His pulse also quickened. All signs of a nightmare. Like clockwork, the werewolf leaned over, placed his hand on Stiles’ chest and started draining his pain. While Peter would love to join the boy in bed and hold him close, Peter knew better. Ever since the fox demon left, this was the born wolf’s nightly routine. He likes to think that it helps him with his own nightmares and feelings, but he was smarter than that.

His thoughts were interrupted when the mole splattered chest started breathing normally. Smiling to himself, he left the room.


	2. My Colors (Peter’s POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know how you’re liking the story and what you predict is going to happen down in the comments!  
Next update will be on Nov 26.

~They're all around me,  
Circling like vultures  
They wanna break me and wash away my colors  
Wash away my colors~

Next Friday, at the weekly pack meeting, Peter was sure to keep an eye on the younger man from the stairwell behind him. Drowning out Derek and the latest creature of the week, he listened closely to the boy on the couch. Stiles’ heart was behaving normally for once as he shook his leg against Jackson’s still one. Jackson, obviously annoyed at his best friend, grabbed Stiles’ leg to still it. Peter bit back a growl, one of which only Derek heard. When his nephew shot him a confused glance, performed with only his eyebrows, Peter just shrugged.

“Okay,” Derek said with an air of power, “We are going to pair up to search for the troll. With the exception of Stiles and Peter, who will stay behind to research.”

Stiles opened his mouth to argue, but was quieted by Jackson, who put his hand on Stiles’ mouth, shook his head, and muttered into Stiles ear, “It’s not worth it. Plus you know that you two are the only ones that can read Latin. Well, besides Lydia, but she’s busy with her parents.”

Peter’s eyebrows rose with this new information. They have all been a pack for a few years now, and Peter thought he knew everything about the pack’s emissary. He stood and walked behind the couch, resting his hands on the back of it, “You continue to surprise me, Stiles.” 

Before Stiles’ could respond, Derek interrupted the chatter that broke out, growling and flashing his alpha red eyes, “The troll isn’t going to wait for us.” Jackson gave Stiles a glance of pity as he left with the rest of the pack in order to hunt for the troll, leaving the taller teen alone with the undead werewolf.

After a moment of silence, Stiles threw up his hands and stomped up the stairs to the pack library. Peter just smiled and padded to the kitchen to make two cups of tea and a plate of hummus with vegetables. What? He could be a perfect gentleman, when he wanted to be.

***

As Peter pushed the library door open with his shoulder, trying to balance the mugs and the plate, he took in the scene before him. Stiles was laid back on the couch, with a book in one hand, notebook on his lap, surrounded by highlighters and pens. His shirt was also hitched up some, showing off a small happy trail. Peter quickly averted his eyes before Stiles could call him out.

The teen glanced up when Peter entered the room, slack jawed and asked, “Did you make us tea and food?” Stiles looked at the plate as Peter came closer. “You made us vegetables and hummus? Are you a rabbit?”

Peter put down the mugs and the plate on the desk in front of Stiles and responded, “Well, technically, I didn’t make the hummus, but yes I made a plate of food.” He moved around the desk and sat next to Stiles, nursing his tea.

Stiles scooted over from Peter a few inches and stared at the tea. Hesitantly, he took his cup from the table, smiling when he realized it was the Catwoman one he had gotten Erica for Christmas. He sniffed the tea, deemed it safe to drip, and took a sip. 

The older man watched this ordeal, smiling into his cup when Stiles sighed after his first sip. He prided himself in knowing everything that the teen likes, even down to how he likes his tea. “So, Little Red, what have you found so far?”

Stiles rolled his eyes at the nickname, much too used to it, and ate some food. He then proceeded to talk with his mouth full, not caring what the older ‘wolf thought. “Well, we were right. It is a troll. From what I can tell they are basically like the one from Harry Potter. Big, dumb, and smelly. It only takes three first years to defeat them. They appear to travel alone, according to most of the books I’ve read so far.”

“What?”

“Please tell me you’ve read, or at least watched Harry Potter. I know you’re ‘above’ such things, but you have had to have seen them,” said Stiles, waving around his arms as he was talking.

“I was in a coma.”

Stiles stopped moving and looked at Peter for the first time during the conversation, “Oh shit, dude. We have to watch it.”

Peter smiled and nodded in agreement. He tried to get the conversation back on track, knowing that Stiles needed a nudge or else he would talk about Harry Potter and all of the plot holes forever. “So the information we gave them was correct?”

As he sipped his tea, Stiles nodded and relaxed back on the couch, spreading his legs some so that their legs touched. He didn’t seem to notice this as stifled a yawn.

Peter held his breath when he felt their legs connect. When Stiles didn’t push back, Peter relaxed into the touch. He smiled, took Stiles mug from him and placed it on the desk. When Stiles opened his mouth to protest, Peter explained, “You’re tired. Go to sleep. I’ll continue researching and I’ll have the ringer on my phone in case one of the pups call.”

Nodding dumbly, too tired to care, Stiles rested his head on the light gray pillow and threw his legs over Peter’s lap. Within a few moments, he was out like a light. 

***

A few hours of mindlessly reading and eating later, including a safe text from the pack, Peter noticed Stiles’ nightmare signals beside him. Without thinking, he rested a hand on the boy’s leg and started pain-draining, his veins turning black. He wasn’t prepared for Stiles to wake up from the nightmare and see the pain lines.

Stiles blinked out the sleep from his eyes, but as he entered reality, he quickly understood what Peter was doing. The other man quickly pulled his arm away to hide it but Stiles quickly gripped his wrist and pulled Peter’s arm close to his face, to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. “You were pain-draining my nightmare,” Stiles whispered.

Peter, who was still shocked and paused halfway through flipping a page in his Latin book, only nodded to Stiles’ accusation. 

“Why?”

“Because you were in pain,” said Peter simply because, well, it him, it was simple. The person he loves is in pain. What else could he do? 

Stiles let go of Peter’s wrist, which was starting to turn to its usual colors. He tried to meet Peter’s eyes, but couldn’t. When he became upset because he was ignored, he swung his legs to straddle Peter’s hips, much to the ‘wolf’s surprise. Stiles locked eyes with him and simply said, “Thank you.”

He was going to respond, Peter swears, but at this moment a bloody Jackson decided to swing open the door. Cursing under his breath, Peter softly tosses Stiles to the other side of the couch and pretended to read, as if the other werewolf didn’t just witness what has gone down between the two.

Jackson, thank god, just smirked and nodded his head towards his best friend, “I’m done with patrol. Do you need a ride home, loser?”

Stiles nodded quickly and bolted from the couch and out of the room, ignoring Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I used the word “color” in the lyrics to mean the black veins from pain-drain. Yes I know I am lazy.


	3. You Make Everything Okay (Stiles POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does it say something about me that I can write Peter’s POV better than Stiles? Whelp.
> 
> I would love to hear your thoughts. 
> 
> There should be another update by Friday, Nov 29th!

~Take me high and I'll sing  
Oh you make everything okay, okay, okay  
'Kay, Okay, Okay  
We are one in the same~

Stiles sighed as he tried to sleep after the intense night, due to Peter. Yes. Peter, he was blaming Peter. First of all, how dare he relieve his pain, like he cares. It is Peter, Peter Hale, Zombie-Wolf, whatever you want to call him; he doesn’t care about anyone other than himself. And maybe his surviving family. He hasn’t even tried to kill Derek to get his alpha powers. Stiles groaned and wrapped his pillow around his head. Why is Peter the only thing he can think about? What’s wrong with him? Maybe he will ask Jackson about it tomorrow, during their typical Saturday video game session. Eventually he was able to fall into a restless sleep, dreaming of steel blue eyes, sharp jaw-lines with stubble, and dark veins. Well, before the nightmares tormented him. 

***

When he woke up in the morning, he stretched and looked at the clock. It was only 7:00 AM, on a Saturday. The teenager checked his cell phone out of habit to make sure that a pack member wasn’t currently dying. Satisfied with the blank notification bar, he fell back asleep. What felt like only moments later, the doorbell rang. Stiles woke up again with a start, flinging his blankets everywhere. 

Stiles padded out of his room to the front door, scratching his head. Thinking that his dad forgot his key again, he opened the front door without looking through the peep-hole, only to find Peter standing there, looking far to happy for the time of day while holding a tray of two Starbucks drinks.

Without acknowledging the stunned Stiles, Peter pushed by him to put the drinks on the dining room table and promptly began speaking. “They killed the troll last night, as I’m sure Jackson has told you, but Isaac and Boyd found new movement on the north-end of the town during their early morning patrol. They think it was definitely troll tracks, from more than one troll.” 

Stiles sighed, realizing his Saturday of playing video games with Jackson was ruined due to the supernatural again, picked up the drink in front of him, and started sipping it. He recognized the taste of matcha latte with almond milk, his favorite, and accepted that his morning could have gone a lot worse.

Peter smiled as he took a sip of his simple unsweetened earl gray tea and barreled on, “Anyways, as I was saying, I continued with our research last night, after you so rudely left. It seems like the smaller species of trolls do, in fact, travel in packs.”

After finishing his drink with a few gulps, trying not to think about last night, Stiles dramatically sat on one of the chairs like a king would sit on his throne, “So more research?”

“More research,” Peter nodded, “I’ll bring in all of the books from my car.”

***

A day of reading and bickering later, it became apparent that Peter was right (shocker), the shorter of the two species of trolls typically move in groups, ranging from 5-7. Everyone in the pack group chat complained at least once when Stiles texted them the news. Jackson complained twice for good measure. 

They ended up on the couch, sprawled in a comfortable position. Peter was sitting with his legs up on the coffee table and Stiles was leaning against the couch arm, facing Peter, with his cold feet tucked under the warm ‘wolf, wiggling his toes.

It was in this position the Sheriff found them in after his shift ended early into the night. After Stiles tried moving away from the older man, without success, Noah just held up his hand and shook his head, “I’m not sure what’s going on here and I’m too tired to ask. What do you want for dinner?”

Stiles cocked his head, obviously confused that his father didn’t care that he was almost cuddling with someone that had many years on him and said, “Peter and I have been busy researching. I was thinking of heating up the vegetarian pasta leftovers from last night. Is that okay with you, Pops?”

Noah nodded and entered the kitchen, calling out, “Peter, do you want a plate too?”

Peter looked at Stiles for permission, and after Stiles nodded, he responded with a simple, “Yes, Sheriff.”

Noah responded softly, but Peter could still hear him, “Call me Noah, son.”

***

Once the weirdest dinner of Stiles’ life was completed, and his dad and Peter did the dishes (Peter does dishes?), Stiles and the ‘wolf said their goodbyes at the door. Peter promised not to disturb Stiles tomorrow, due to the amount of homework the teenager has to complete. However, Stiles didn’t believe him, probably due to the wink and the huge grin the other man had on his face. Whatever he was planning, it wasn’t good Stiles decided. 

When Stiles closed the door, and turned around he found his dad staring at him with a certain look on his face. Once they made eye contact, Noah said, “I know I never liked him, but I think he’s changed,” and then went upstairs to his room, not giving time for Stiles to sarcastically respond.

Stiles threw up his hands, wondering when Peter won over everyone, including himself. He shook his head before he went through the motions of getting ready for bed. After he completed the last item on his nightly routine, his shower, with his towel wrapped around his waist, Stiles went into his room and shut the door. 

He turned around and almost screamed at the figure in his bed. As he was trying to get control of his breathing, he looked closer. The figure was Peter, who was sleeping peacefully, curled up in his full-shift wolf form. He was much too tired to even begin this conversation about boundaries with Peter, Stiles changed into his plaid sleep pants and slipped into what little space was left in the bed. He cuddled into Peter’s soft brown fur, thinking that he could get used to being this comfortable, and gradually fell asleep.

***

In the middle of the night, Stiles woke up from his usual nightmare and Peter was there, in human form, draining his pain. Stiles opened his mouth to speak and complain, but was quieted by Peter’s soft kiss to his forehead. Deciding that this was bizarre enough to mean he was still dreaming, Stiles fell back asleep without counting his fingers, clutching onto Peter.


	4. Control (Peter’s POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow I suck at actions scenes. Have this small update.
> 
> The next chapter should be up next Tuesday!

~I cannot stop this sickness taking over  
It takes control and drags me into nowhere  
I need your help, I can't fight this forever~

After that night, it became clockwork for Peter to sleep in Stiles’ bed. Stiles has tried to talk to him about it, but he always waved Stiles off and said something about pack bonds. If Noah had any idea about the grown man sleeping in his son’s bed, he didn’t mention it. 

During the afternoons when Jackson wasn’t over, Peter would arrive through Stiles’ window earlier and read while Stiles did homework or bitched about high school in general. These afternoons were Peter’s favorite. As the week progressed, they kept sitting closer and closer, until they found a comfortable position on Stiles’ bed that involved a tangle of legs and Peter’s arm around Stiles’ shoulders. 

***

It only took a few days for shit to hit the fan, thanks to the creature of the week (well, more like month this time).

The fateful day was on mandatory pack bonding night and Peter was sitting close to Stiles on one of the various couches in the Hale house, vaguely listening to Stiles and Jackson bicker about something meaningless when Cora busted into the living room with dried blood on her. All of the conversations stopped.

Isaac, who was closest to the entrance, stepped towards the female werewolf, “Are you okay?”

Cora scoffed and sarcastically responded, “Yeah, I’m great. That’s why I’m covered in my own blood.” She flipped her brown hair over her shoulder as she turned to Derek, “There’s a witch controlling the trolls. She told me to send her love.”

The alpha nodded, addressing the pack he said, “Okay. Let’s all go to where Cora was attacked. With the exception of Stiles and Peter, who can stay here in case we need any information.”

“No, Derek. I’m the fucking emissary. Let me act like one.”

Derek growled but recognized that Stiles had a point. He nodded towards his uncle, “Peter, guard him.”

Peter grinned in response, showing too many teeth for anyone to feel comfortable. “Anything for Little Red.”

***

Almost all of the trolls were dead besides the one that Peter was fighting. The rest of the pack were in their own battles with the replicas of the witch, besides Stiles, who could tell which one was the true enemy. It was magic versus a mad human teenager with a spark and bat that had nails through the length of it. Much to her mistake, the witch surprised the pack’s emissary and knocked out Stiles with a quick earth spell that caused rocks to circle his skull and hit sporadically. 

Peter quickly killed off the troll that was tormenting him and turned towards the witch. Her eyes widen as she realized she didn’t have anymore creatures to die for her. Not giving her a moment to beg for her life or to perform the same spell on him, Peter grabbed the top of her skull and ripped the witch’s head clean off of her skeleton, making blood stream from her juggler all over the passed out Stiles’s face. The clearing became silent as the rest of the trolls ran off in various directions.

Blood started to drip down his claws as he growled towards the corpse before him. He was about to mangle it even more for its sin, but Derek and Cora held him back. Instead, Peter turned his gaze to the pack’s human. Sinking to his knees, he made sure that Stiles was still breathing, no matter how shallow, before he started pain-draining him, still in beta form, getting more fresh blood on the human.

After he was sure Peter wouldn’t cause more damage, Derek addressed the pack. “It seems like a few trolls escaped during the…” Derek trailed off.

Erica quipped up while picking blood out of her nails, “Death? Beheading? Overreaction?”

Derek nodded gravely and interrupted the blonde-haired werewolf, “We need to find the rest of them. Peter, Cora, stay with him.”

Most of the pack took off, running into the underbrush in their beta forms, with the exception of those that remained due to Derek’s order. Peter stayed where he was, still covered in blood, pain-draining unconscious Stiles, and staring at the teenagers’ face, as if he might disappear at any moment.

“He’s just knocked out Peter. He’s going to be fine,” his niece said as she put a hand on her uncle’s shoulder, not flinching when her uncle snarled and snapped his fangs at her. “Come on, let’s take him back to the pack house.”

Cora sighed and dropped her hand. “Peter,” she crouched next to the rage-filled twitching werewolf who was slowing growing more and more fur, “Come back. She’s not worth going feral over. Stiles needs you. He’s still alive.”

Peter growled at the she-wolf that was getting too close to the pack’s emissary, his shining wolf eyes flicking between Stiles’ own closed eyes. Taking a deep breath, Peter slowly got his wolf under control. After he finally reached his human form, he whimpered out softly, “I can’t lose him, Cora. I can’t live without him.”


	5. Away, Away (Jackson’s POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the late update! My thumb has been really bothering me. But, good news! I finished the series and will be posting the rest of the chapters at once! Happy Holidays, friends.

~I know you're watching,  
I can feel you out there  
Oh you take all of the pain away, away, away  
'Way, away, away~

Jackson slammed the large front door to the Hale house and immediately started bitching, “God damn it! Who knew some huge-ass stinky-ass trolls are so hard to find!” He stomped his way into the living room and was about to continue bitching. He decided against it when he saw the murderous look on Peter’s face as he was basically cuddling and pain-draining a sleeping Stiles on their usual black leather couch. The born werewolf looked rough, he’s obviously been pain-draining the entire time since the accident happened. Jackson looked down at his watch. Three hours ago.

He ungracefully flopped down into the plush chair next to the couch that was decorated with a detailed, fluffy wolf pillow that Jackson is certain Stiles bought. “How is he doing?”

“Better. He’s just sleeping now. Almost no pain.”

Jackson hummed in confirmation and leaned back into his seat, trying to get comfortable. He was glad that his best friend wasn’t in serious pain. But, damn, out of all of the pack members, why did Stiles have to choose Peter? Or, perhaps the correct way to view it was, why did Peter have to choose Stiles? It wasn’t the gay thing. Hell, he’s bisexual too. Stiles and him celebrated coming out day together. It wasn’t the age thing either. Stiles is turning eighteen soon. Maybe-

As Jackson was worrying and trying not to meet Peter’s knowing looks, Stiles started to wake up, first with his arms, twitching, and then slowly his eyes opened. He immediately yelled and tried to stand up, but barely moved due to the muscular werewolf arms around him.

Peter looked fond as he held on to the human. “It’s okay. You’re safe.” 

Stiles took in a deep breath, looking at Jackson for confirmation. When Jackson nodded in response, Stiles let out the breath he was holding and sunk back into Peter’s chest. “What happened?” He asked, voice still hoarse from sleeping and a concerned look on his face.

Peter and Jackson both retold the story from their own point of views. When Jackson let it drop that it was Peter that went into a rage and killed the witch, Stiles stared at the older werewolf, “Why?”

The conversation was cut short by Cora, who called from the kitchen across the Hale house. “Peter! I can’t figure out how to work your new coffee maker!”

Her uncle responded with a yell of his own, “I swear to god I’ll disown you if you break my new cappuccino machine!” Sighing, he untangled his body from Stiles’, apologizing softly in the human’s ear, and made a bee-line for the other room.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” said Stiles once Peter was gone from the living room, slowly moving to sit up. “I think I might be falling for Peter.”

Jackson barked out a laugh. “Oh? You think? I can smell your desperation from here, Stiles. Just ask him out. I know he feels the same.”

“He WHATS?” Stiles flails in shock and almost falls off of the couch. Jackson was sure that every ‘wolf in the house heard his outburst, judging by Cora’s snort from the kitchen.

He sighed, rubbing his temples, wondering when his best friend became so dumb, “It is kinda the inside joke of the pack. We can all tell that Peter cares deeply for you, which should be obvious to you, due to recent events.”

Stiles fiddled with the sleeves of his too-large green flannel shirt, obviously embarrassed, “So you’re okay with this? I know he’s older than me. And the entire thing with Lydia.”

“Yes, Stiles, you have my blessing,” Jackson dead pans with a twitch of his eyebrows. Maybe he’s been spending too much time with Derek, and the other Hales for that matter. Eyebrow speaking was basically just basic sign language, without the hand movements. 

“But he’s a killer! He’s almost killed enough people to be a serial killer! He JUST killed someone, like hours ago.”

“Yes but you know he didn’t kill anyone that didn’t deserve it.” “Plus,” Jackson added, “ if that really bothers you, then you wouldn’t be okay with him sleeping in your bed every night.”

Stiles blushed, “You knew about that?” When Jackson nodded, Stiles looked away and whispered, “He drains the pain of my nightmares.”

Jackson’s eyes widened and became slack jawed at the confession. He secretly hoped that he heard his friend wrong. “I thought you said that they stopped.”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” said Stiles, still whispering and refusing to meet Jackson’s eyes as he stared at his fidgeting hands.

The werewolf nodded in understanding and moved to the couch in order to hug his friend, “You know I’m here for you. Always, loser. However. Whenever.” Jackson wanted to say more, but knew how stubborn Stiles can get, and left it at that.

Stiles hugged Jackson back and sniffed out a broken response, “Brothers for life, right, asshole?”

***

Stiles left shortly after, thanks to a courtesy ride from Derek, who just returned from his own search for the remaining trolls, Once the pair left, Jackson called out, “Peter, I know you were listening into my conversation with Stiles. You can come out now.”

Peter appeared from behind his favorite lurking pillar and leaned against it with his arms crossed.

Jackson rolled his eyes and felt a headache coming on, “Stop looking like a cat that caught a canary.” He decided he needed a beer, a large glass of it, laced with wolfsbane. He vaguely wondered if there was still some left in the pack’s kitchen from Stiles’ last batch.

“Oh, but I have,” Peter said, giving Jackson a feral looking grin 

Jackson flashed his eyes beta gold and let out a small growl, his canines growing in size, “Hurt him and you’ll burn to death again.”

Peter’s grin turned into a sly smirk as he turned to leave the living room, “Third time’s the charm, isn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized I needed more humor so here’s a Jackson POV. Also, I’m deaf and I threw in a sign language joke because I can.


	6. Save Me (Peter’s POV)

~Save me if I become my demons  
Take me over the walls below  
Fly forever  
Don't let me go~

The preserve was silent, well, as silent as it could be with the noises of crunching leaves, indicating that Stiles was walking to Peter’s left. It was foggy Saturday night, a week after Stiles’ head injury. The human swore he felt better, but Peter could sometimes smell pain from him when he bent his neck a certain way. The whole pack was broken into pairs, spread out across the forest in order to find the one last missing troll.

The night reminded Peter the last time they patrolled together, back when Peter had no idea the human’s feelings towards him, before the consensual pain-draining and cuddling. Stiles hasn’t said a word since they’ve arrived to the hiking trail, which is unlike him.

Peter decided to change that by doing what he does best, being an asshole. “So, Little Red, I hear you have quite a crush on me.”

Stiles didn’t respond but he stopped walking. Grinning, Peter continued on the path, pretending like he didn’t notice. 

After a few paces, the human huffed and sped up in order to return to Peter’s side. “Well, what about you, Creeper-Wolf? You’re the one that crawls into my bed and cuddles me.”

“As if you don’t like it,” Peter teased as he pushed a tree limb forward, letting them into the clearing that hosts the nemeton.

Stiles crossed his arms over his chest and stepped in front of Peter’s path, still just on the edge of the clearing, with a determined look on his face. “Do you like me?”

This is turning into an interesting night, Peter thought as he closed the distance between the two, only stopping when he was close enough that he could feel Stiles’ breath on his face. He faked a bored expression and said, “You’re tolerable, for a human.”

Stiles slowly cocked his head in thought, reminding Peter of a cute fox video he watched earlier that day. He didn’t move as the human leaned in closer, almost brushing their lips together. “Tell me, Peter,” he whispered into the wind, barely audible to Peter over the frantic beating of his heart.

Peter could have responded with English, but figured that showing was better than telling, and closed the distance between their two lips, gently kissing Stiles. The human’s eyes widened in shock before sighing into the kiss and closing his eyes, long eyelashes fluttering.

Deepening the kiss, Peter pressed Stiles gently against a nearby pine tree and Stiles’ breath hitched as he sucked on a sensitive part of the neck in front of him and sliding his thigh between Stiles’ legs. The other man managed to let out a broken plea. “Peter, stop. Jackson and Derek are patrolling close by. What if they catch us?”

“Please, as if I wouldn’t hear them coming,” Peter said as he moved his mouth back to Stiles’.

If they were asked, neither of them would be able to say how long they stayed slowly making out against that tree. But, one thing was for certain, Peter found himself distracted. He never gets distracted. But Stiles’ heart and soft moans were all he could hear as he had his way with the boy’s lips, reddening them for his own amusement. He just barely heard sounds coming from behind them. “Hey, do you hear that,” Peter mumbled against Stiles lips, not wanting to pull away.

“Hear wha-” Stiles words were cut off by the sound of a roar, too close for comfort.

Before he could turn around, Peter was thrown into a neighboring oak tree, pain flared up his spine, his back protesting. The old, rotten tree creaked loudly and broke into a million pieces, raining down onto them. The largest limb hit landed on Stiles, who shouted in pain and crumbled at the impact. Growling in anger, Peter beta shifted and faced the attacking troll, teeth bared and claws at the ready. The creature growled back in response to Peter’s challenge, spitting rancid grey saliva from its’ mouth.

Ignoring the threat facing him, Peter’s eyes flicked to his side and realized that Stiles hasn’t moved since getting hit. “Stiles? Stiles!” Peter yelled, struggling to talk in his beta shift, looking over his shoulder to get a better look at young human. The troll chose that moment to strike. Peter felt the hit to his chest, saw red and quickly stuck his clawed hand through the troll’s chest, found its’ large, still beating, heart, and ripped it out.

He shifted back into his human form, dropped the organ, and took long strides to the crumpled form of Stiles. Peter collapsed to his knees next to him and started pain-draining him as he howled at the sky, hoping that Derek and Jackson heard him.

***

It seemed like hours later, but it was more likely minutes, when Peter heard the undergrowth moving and the tell-tale signs of his two packmates running towards them. When they got there, they both stopped in their tracks, both of the ‘wolves in shock at the scene they saw.

It had to look like a mess. The corpse of the troll was still leaking out blood and both of the men were covered in soot and splinters. Stiles was on his side, puking up green and brown stomach bile mixing with clotted and stringy dark blood that was forming a sickening pool. Stiles’ eyes were beginning to glaze over and he was struggling to breathe. His hand fell from where he was gripping Peter’s forearm, where the signs of pain-draining were fading. As the black lines started to disappear, it became obvious that Peter was failing to pain-drain the other man and was starting to sob to himself. 

Jackson suddenly came out of his shock and yelled, “Damn it, Derek! Fucking bite him already! He’s dying!” Without thinking, Derek got to his knees and complied, biting Stiles’ on the shoulder, desperate to save his emissary, eyes shining red into the foggy night.

Stiles’ scream made the werewolves flinch and a nearby flock of birds to scatter from the forest. If they were located any closer to town, the police would have been called.

“Come on, Little Red. Please, you can’t leave me,” Peter whispered, unable to be heard over Stiles’ scream.

He watched Stiles with bated breath, with Jackson by his side and Derek on the other, both holding his shoulder as an anchoring point. At least half an hour passed before one of them spoke. “There’s no smell of his body rejecting the bite,” Jackson said, glancing at Peter for the first time, the signs of relief on his face. 

Derek shook his head in response, frowning, “Something is off about the smell of the change. But I can’t seem to place my finger on what could be causing it.” 

Peter’s hands were shaking in fear from where he placed them to stop the steady stream of blood coming from Stiles’ shoulder. Somehow, he still hasn’t passed out. He was breathing roughly, staring at Peter’s face, eyebrows and lips twisted in pain. At least he wasn’t vomiting anymore.

“How are you doing, Little Red?”

“I’m great. I feel like I’m flying,” whispered Stiles before blacking out.


	7. You Take All Of The Pain Away (Stiles’ POV)

~I need a savior to heal my pain  
When I become my worst enemy  
The enemy  
Take me high and I'll sing  
Oh you make everything okay  
We are one in the same  
Oh you take all of the pain away~

Stiles woke up in his bed, with a worried Peter standing over him. The red, hazy sunrise that was streaming from his window was too bright and Peter’s heartbeat was too loud. Even his father, who was pattering around in the kitchen downstairs, was too loud to Stiles’ ears. He sat up, slinging his legs off the bed and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands. The bed shifted as Peter sat next to him, close enough to where their shoulders were touching. Stiles’ very much not injured shoulder.

“How long have I been out?” Asked Stiles, voice cracking from sleep. He sounded too loud for his own ears. And, gross, has his morning breath always smelled this bad?

Peter put his hand on Stiles’ thigh and looked at the younger man with a guarded expression, “Just a few hours. How are you feeling?” He started rubbing his thumb in worried circles on Stiles’ sweatpants.

Stiles didn’t respond but held the hand that was on him and rested his head on Peter’s shoulder, trying to get comfortable. His mind was going a million miles an hour. Apparently becoming a werewolf didn’t cure his ADHD. He could feel Peter’s eyes on his face and turned to face him, neck slightly protesting at the angle, amber eyes meeting the icy blue gaze. 

Breaking the silence, Peter said, “I’m sorry. I know you wanted to remain human. But, Stiles, Derek had no choice. I was going to lose you. WE were going to lose you.” His voice trembled at the end, sounding sincere.

“I know,” Stiles said, nodding and turning his head back to a comfortable position. “I understand. It’ll just take… getting used to. I mean…” He trailed off, suddenly becoming mad at the whole situation. “I can’t believe it was a fucking Harry Potter creature that killed me. After everything I’ve lived through. Even the fucking nogitsune didn’t kill me.”

“You’re not dead, Little Red.”

Stiles was going to bite out a sarcastic response but he flinched as his father yelled up the stairs, announcing that breakfast was ready and that they were both expected to join.

Peter stood up, coaxing Stiles with him, and had the decency to look apologetic. “I tried to stop Derek from telling John what happened last night, but he pulled the alpha card on me.”

Well, this is going to be a mess, Stiles thought.

***

Surprisingly, it went smoothly and quickly. It seemed like his dad wanted it to last longer, but duty called. Even your son becoming a creature of the night wasn’t an excuse enough to get the Sheriff out of work. He hugged Stiles tightly and shook Peter’s hand before leaving in his patrol car. After he left, Stiles was expecting to go back to bed or to at least play video games. They both made it up to his room before Peter spoke up.

“We should begin your training now.”

Stiles dramatically groaned and pouted at the other man. Trying to get out of it, he asked, “isn’t Derek supposed to train me? He’s the alpha.”

Peter scoffed and crossed his arms. “Please. I like to think I can train you better than he can. You saw how the rest of the pups turned out.” He continued, not letting Stiles interrupt and complain. “We will start with your beta shift. Go on. Show me what you can do, Little Red.”

Realizing this wasn’t going to be a fight he was going to win, Stiles stuck his tongue out, because he was mature like that. Peter just gave him a pointed stare and raised one of his eyebrows in response.

Stiles sighed in defeat and closed his eyes, rolling his shoulders as he relaxed and listened to Peter’s steady heartbeat. He recalled the conversation he had with Jackson about beta shifts. His friend described it as letting go. Might as well try it, Stiles thought, and he let go. He felt the shift almost immediately. The changes his body made were warm and awkward. At least it wasn’t as painful as Stiles thought it was going to be. Once he felt the shift ending, he opened his eyes with a grin, obviously proud of himself.

Peter looked very confused and, honestly, somewhat scared.

“What?” Stiles asked with a teasing voice, mumbling some due to the new teeth, “Am I still cute even in my shifted form? Does this turn you on, Creeper-Wolf?”

When the older werewolf continued to be speechless, Stiles’ grin faltered. He quickly sprinted to his bathroom down the hall, slamming and locking the door along the way. Nothing would prepare him for what he saw in the mirror above the sink. 

Stiles could see that he was clearly in beta-shift, with no eyebrows and furry sideburns, but something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Instead of glowing werewolf eyes, they were entirely matte black, the skin around them dark as well. He blinked a few times in shock and looked up. Ears. Not wolf ears. Are those… small red fox ears? He glanced down at his hands. Black claws. Ten fingers. He wasn’t having a nightmare. He started hyperventilating and made the mistake of looking at his mouth. His mouth was full of dark, sharp pointed teeth, just like the… He couldn’t breathe. His greatest fear was being real; he was becoming his demons.

Peter started pounding on the bathroom door, “Stiles. Let me in. I can help.”

“How? I’m not even a fucking werewolf!” Tears started to well up in Stiles’ still black demon eyes as he slowly unlocked the bathroom door, knowing that Peter would just break it down if he didn’t open it for him.

As soon as Peter was in the bathroom, he turned Stiles’ around so that he wasn’t looking at his beta shift anymore, and hugged the smaller boy. “Oh, Little Red,” said Peter, waves of pity came off of him, turning the scent around them sour.

This only made Stiles angrier and he felt himself start to lose control of his human side. Slipping, sliding into a dark place. Black smoke penetrated into the sides of his vision and he felt everything became longer, his ears, his claws, and especially his fangs. 

Peter started to hang onto Stiles harder, not flinching as the demon claws sunk into his back. “Find your anchor,” he said, his voice cracked under the pain. 

Stiles nodded into Peter’s chest, breathing in the scent of him. Pine trees, old books, and a slight scent of something he couldn’t place. Slowly, but surely, he felt the human side of him coming back and the uncomfortable feeling retracting his new body parts. Stiles let out a broken sob. 

Peter didn’t say anything as he picked Stiles up before, carrying him to his bedroom, and slowly sinking both of them into the bed. He arranged them to where Peter was sitting up against the headboard of the bed while Stiles was in his arms, crying into the born wolf’s neck. 

They didn’t talk for a long time. Peter just rubbed his back in soft, soothing motions. Stiles finally stopped sniffling and mumbled into Peter’s neck, “Why did I have to become my demons?” 

Peter moved them to where they were face to face. “Little Red, you’re still a werewolf. Well, in the ways it counts. We can research the rest of it.”

“What ways count?”

Instead of answering, Peter gently pushed Stiles off of his lap and walked over to Stiles’ desk. He opened the third drawer open and pulled out the purple wolfsbane-laced knife. Stiles wasn’t surprised Peter not only knew that he owned it, but also where he hid the thing. However, he was surprised when Peter used the poisonous knife to cut himself across the palm of his hand before Stiles could stop him.

Stiles sharply gasped in shock and made his way to the werewolf, grabbing his newly injured hand that was starting to glow purple and pool with blood. “Are you fucking mad, Peter?”

“Look down.”

He followed Peter’s instructions. The tell-tale signs of pain-draining were starting to appear on his own arm. Stiles groaned in discomfort. “How did you know that that would happen?”

Peter grinned despite the pain he was in. “I didn’t.”

Stiles huffed like he was annoyed, but couldn’t help but to feel amused. “You’re lucky I keep a sample of that subspecies of wolfsbane on hand.”

After they healed Peter’s cut, Stiles bit his lip, trying to find his words. Fuck it, he’ll just come out and ask. “How could you even want me? Look how broken I am. I can’t even be a werewolf right.”

“Stiles,” Peter cupped both of Stiles’ cheeks gently. “I will always be there for you, no matter what happens. Even if you and your friends set me on fire again.” He smiled tightly when he heard a small huff in response from Stiles. He continued, “You are amazing. You’re cunning and so, so smart. You could rule the Earth if you wanted to. And there’s nothing I wouldn’t give you to make that happen.”

Stiles let out a hysterical giggle. “I can tell you’re not lying. Your heart is steady.” The werefox leaned in closer to Peter, bridging the gap between their faces and softly touched their lips together. 

“Everything is going to be okay, Little Red,” said Peter, breaking the kiss in order to nuzzle and scent mark the younger man’s neck, breathing in deeply.

And Stiles, well, Stiles thought that with Peter by his side everything really would be okay.

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anndddd, that's all folks! I hope you enjoyed it.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on my Teen Wolf shipping [Tumblr](https://stilesshipper.tumblr.com/)


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